Career
by aprilgirl01
Summary: I've heard what they say, that we cheat. They curse our names, and spit when one of us comes on a victory tour. And yes. We train. We are somewhat bloodthirsty, but does anyone realize that every year we save younger, weaker children by volunteering? Or are they just ashamed, because they send up little kids, and nobody lifts a finger? Careers, we are people to. *Rewrite of Light*
1. Chapter 1

This is a rewrite of my story Light. I've made a lot of changes, but the basic idea is still the same. Please read and review!

Ch. 1- The Reaping

I wake up on one of the academy's stiff cots. As always, my back is cramped from the hard bedframe, but a few minutes of stretching relaxes it quickly. I glance at the clock. The time reads 6:45. That's half an hour until the other girls wake up. I glance at my fellow fifteen year olds, making sure none of them are awake, and tiptoe out of the room.

I open the door to the training room and slip inside. The room is empty. Perfect. Of course, nobody would care if I was in there anyway. Even the trainers know not to mess with me. At fifteen, I'm deadly at hand-to-hand combat. My sword skills are quite good to. Anyway, I don't like training in front of everyone. That's why I come in early. That way, when the training room is open, I spend my time on survival skills, not fighting techniques. Not that I don't fight in public or anything. Fights in the academy are as common as dirt. Whatever. I roll the grip of a spear in my hands, and turn on the robotic stimulator. Immediately, the dummies come alive, and begin to rush me. I slash and slash at them. If they were real tributes, they'd all be dead, but the dummies are indestructible. So I fight for a while, then turn off the stimulator. I go to the wrestling station, and go one on one with a dummy. The dummy taps out as I apply pressure to its larynx. The dummies don't tap out often, but they always do with me. The time reads 7:05. Ten minutes! I run back into my cot and pretend I've been asleep the whole time.

As always, when the alarm sounds, I am the first one out of bed. All the girls in my bunk room assemble, as usual, in the forefront of the bunk, but the atmosphere of the place is different. More stressed. But of course it is. I'd forgotten. Today is Reaping Day.

We all change into our Reaping dresses. Mine goes down past my knees and is a deep wine color. Every kid in District Two in between the ages of twelve and eighteen is somewhere in this building, which we call the academy. It's like a boarding school, except its mandatory. And along with math and science, we learn knives and swords. After my L.A. class is my edible plants class. Some in the district say its overkill to have an entire boarding school to train for the games, since so few kids get picked, but the capitol doesn't mind, since fifty percent of us will end up in the Peacekeepers force. I'm fifteen, so I've been here for three years.

My best friend Natalia sidles up to me. Natalia is a tall, cruel girl with hair blacker than blackberries. She loves spears, and her little sister Clove is a twelve, one year older than my sister Marlene. "Ready?" Natalia nudges me, she doesn't know I'm planning on volunteering. She thinks I'll wait until I'm older. But I know I'm ready now, and younger careers are always better for television.

It is a calm sound, the sound of nine hundred pairs of feet all pounding in the same rhythm. Every single kid in the academy who is of age walks together to the square were the Reaping takes place. It's supposed to signify unity of our district. Eventually, we split up by gender, then again by age. I end up in the middle of everyone, next to some other fifteen year olds, including a really obnoxious girl named Nadia. She takes tesserae even though she doesn't have to. She can't wait to take her place in the games. She has told every single girl here that this year is her year. I really hope she is wrong.

Our escort, a capitol lady named Silk dressed in a slinky, shiny green gown, mounts the stage along with our seven living victors. "Happy Hunger Games!" she says, continuing with a signature "Ladies first!" In some odd way, I'm hoping the tribute is me. And if it isn't, do I want to volunteer? Or wait until I'm older? What do I do? "And our brave, courageous female tribute is….. Nadia Weatherworth!"

Nadia saunters up to the stage with a triumphant look on her face. Well, being the only one in the entire district who takes tesserae does really put the odds in her favor. "Any volunteers?" Silk asks, grinning, "going once, going twice,-" and before I know what I'm doing, my legs are propelling me forward at a crazy speed.

"I volunteer!" I scream, sounding as dangerous and confident as I've always dreamed I would, "I volunteer as tribute!"

The first thing I process is Nadia glaring at me like I just crushed her hopes and dreams. Well, maybe I had. Not that I minded really. Nadia always acts so tough, but really, I know twelve year olds who can take her down with all sorts of weapons. See, Nadia is one of the rich kids, whose parents pay for her to train with special tutors and the like. My family isn't poor, but I have to rely on scholarships for extra training.

"Wonderful!" says Silk, "I believe we have a volunteer! What is your name?" she addresses me.

"Spera Okenwitz." I say.

"Marvelous." Silk continues, "But more excitement to come! Now we must pick a brave, selfless male to represent District Two! And our male tribute is... Roberto Marshal!"

A small, sandy-haired twelve year old mounts the stage. This is why we have volunteers. Next to me, even, he looks tiny. Next to an 18 year old, Roberto wouldn't stand a chance. He shivers, and I'm glad Roberto lives in district two, where someone will step forward to save his life. Before Silk can even ask for volunteers, a burly eighteen year old with jet black hair ambles forward. "I volunteer as tribute!" He screams. When Silk asks his name, he answers "Spike Woodenspile."

I know Spike. His best weapon is a machete, but he is good with small swords as well. His big issue is that he's extremely out of shape, and everyone knows that's because of his stash of junk food that could keep all of District Twelve fed for a month. Okay, slight exaggeration there. But no matter what diet the trainers put him on, he binges on his stash anyway.

We shake hands, and I lock eyes with Natalia. She looks surprised, but I know she's trying to look proud for my benefit. Inside, I can tell she has doubts though. I'll prove her wrong.

There! Slightly different than my old story, but the story will change more as the chapters go on. Remember, reviews make chapters!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two of the rewrite! Yes, you will get to see Clove here. This is how I imagined her as a younger child.

We exit the stage to a huge round of applause. We are each shown into a room, and as soon as I sit down on my couch, the door opens and my entire family comes in. My mom, dad, older brother Zen, he's nineteen, and my younger sister Marlene, she's eleven. Since I'm at the academy, I don't see them that often during the year, but I still love them.

"I'm so proud of you!" my mom exclaims, hugging me, "I don't have any doubts you will win."

"Yes," my dad continues, "You have what it takes. Just stick with the career pack, but don't make any friends. You will have to kill them eventually."

I nod and we all hug, and tell each other we love each other. And it's true. I'll miss them all. But I don't have time to think about it. The door bursts open, and in comes Nadia Weatherworth. Not skipping a beat, she slaps me across the face. I grab her arm, and put her into an arm lock called a chicken wing. She taps out, and I slowly release her. Her face is bright purple. "You'll pay for this!" she hisses, and she struts out the door.

In come friends from the academy, all assuring me that I'll win, reminiscing over good times, and wishing me luck. Separately from the rest comes in Natalia. I can't read her face, and she says quietly, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure I wanted to do it."

"Why didn't you wait?"

"I don't know, but what's done is done. I'm the tribute. No regrets, right?"

A ghost of a smile flashes across her face. "No regrets. Kill them all, okay?"

I grin. "Yes ma'am. Train hard, I want progress by the time I come home a victor." We both can sense the hidden message behind those words, that if I don't come back, she has to avenge me. But those are works that we would never say, because that might make them true. Natalia anxiously presses a small stone on a chain into my hand. I recognize it as quarry stone, but with a few flecks of precious metals embedded into it. I slip the chain over my neck. "See you later, Nat."

She turns and walks away, not looking back, dark braid swinging behind her.

My next visitor is a surprise. It's Clove. She is twelve, but her eyes already hold an unyielding cruelty that usually takes a few years to develop. Mix that mindset with her talent with knives, she'll be going into the arena for sure. Probably the seventy fourth, fifth, or sixth. She looks me square in the eyes, and the sweet, carefree little girl I used to know flickers for a second behind her academy-induced mask.

"Win."

By the time I open my mouth to respond, she has left the room, not leaving one single strand of dark hair behind.

My last visitor is even more unexpected. Spike's little brother, Blades, shuts the door carefully behind him. At thirteen, Blades is well aware of the risk his brother is taking. Of the chance he won't return.

"Look, I'm not asking you to lay down your life for Spike, but please, please don't kill him yourself." Blades pleads, and I see him suddenly as just a small child, fearing for the life of his brother, not a warrior-in-training. I say the only thing I can.

"District honor, Blades. I would never kill him prematurely, but you know that I can't spare him in the final two. I want to get home also."

Just like that, the little boy is gone, the little warrior in its place.

"Fine."

And he slams the door behind him.

I run my fingers over the stitching in the sofa, enthralled by the vibrant colors, until I hear Silk coo, "That is all, Spera! Now you need to meet your mentors!"

My first test is here.

Cool! Now, if you are reading this, please review, it means the world to me, and I can always use constructive criticism.


	3. Chapter 3

Here comes chapter three!

Ch. 3- Tributes and Costumes

There is an elaborate, silk, white table cloth with a feast on it. Cheese that melts in your mouth, fruits I've never heard of before, sweet buns, supper tender steaks and chickens, the meal is so good, I don't even realize who is at the table until I've stuffed myself full to the brim. When I look up from my plate, I see seven familiar faces, along with Spike and Silk. I recognize them as victors, with Enobaria and Brutus among them. As the meal finishes, Brutus stands up. The conversation that had been buzzing around the table ceases, as the giant hulk of a victor raises a meaty hand. Brutus narrows his eyes and says, "Well, a new year of tributes. Let's see what you can do."

I stand up quickly. "Well," I begin, "My weapon is the sword. Hand to hand combat is also a favorite of mine. I'm not very fast though, nor am I very large, but it's hard to sneak up on me, and easy for me to sneak up on you." Enobaria gives me a quick nod, while Brutus simply stands there, silent as a stone.

Spike stands up. "Um, my weapon is the machete, but I can work short swords very well, as well. Wrestling? I'm the best in my age. I'm not too fast either, and I'm bad at being quiet."

At this Brutus grunts. I remember watching his games at the Academy. He was the loudest of all the careers, and won pretty much by tearing down everyone else. Enobaria raises her chin, and says, "Alright. You two make a good pair. You are both good with swords, that's good, they are usually in the arena. During training, try to learn some new weapons, intimidate others, but that won't be for two days. I don't want either of you to try to be charming, that is for District one. Go for murderous and cocky, Spike, and go for lithe and cruel, Spera. Any questions?" We both shake our heads.

I think that's when it hits me. Standing in front of me are two victors, and they are prepping me to be a tribute. Every year, at the Academy, we take a break from training to watch and analyze the games. This year, I won't be staring up at the screens, though. I'll be on them.

Dinner ends, and we gather around the flat-screen television to watch the reapings. District One is first. As usual, two charming, gorgeous blondes, both volunteers, both winking at the camera with smiles on their faces. District Two. The commentators spectate about why I volunteered so young, why I didn't wait. They take a minute to ooh and aah at Spikes massive size though, saying how they wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley. Good.

District Three, nothing special. Two shivering teens getting called up for slaughter. I perk up as the setting changes to the beaches of District Four, they will most likely be our other allies. The girl looks crafty, like someone who would stab you in the back while on guard. I'll have to watch out for her. The boy reminds me of Spike. Same massive build, but this tribute has an unhinged, bloodthirsty look in his eyes. Hm. Maybe District Four is the threat to us this year.

District Five, Six, Seven, nothing interesting. A towering eighteen year old in Six, I put him on my mental list of targets. In Eight, a little girl, barely reaping age, gets called up, and two older girls fight for the chance to volunteer for her. However, in District Two when there are reaping fights, they don't have the terrified, anxious tone that this one does.

Distritcs Nine, Ten, easy targets. Then District Eleven. A scrawny, mousey looking girl is reaped, and a big, burly older girl shouts out, "I volunteer!" The little girl scampers off, desperately relieved. When asked why she volunteered, the volunteer shrugs and mumbles, "Why not?" She'll be sucking up sponsers, I bet.

In District Twelve, a tiny little boy is called, and when nobody volunteers, I feel hot rage swell up in me. This boy reminds me of Roberto. Why let some little kid play this game, what older kid would be so selfish? At least in Two, we make sure our tributes have a chance, are not so young! Then I remember that I may very well be this boy's murderer, and I swallow hard.

The capitol seal ends the program, and Silk announces in her ever-so-chipper voice that it's time for bed! I wander down to my room, and open the closet, looking for nightclothes. I swing open the doors, and find dresses. And dresses. And dresses. Where are the pants? Eventually, I find a pair, stowed away in the back, of satin sleeping shorts. I also wear a soft, white shirt that was folded in a drawer. The silk sheets on the bed are so soft, I fall asleep instantly….

Sunlight streams through my eyelids, as I wake up to Silk rapping on my door. "Up! Up! We're in the Capitol!"

I groan, and stretch, before pulling my hair back, and changing into a black pair of stretchy pants, and a maroon cap-shoulder shirt. I run into the main car, where the huge windows show us (spike has joined me) our first sight of the Capitol! I mean, I've seen it on TV, but this is… wow.

There is blue, and red, and violet, and yellows of all shades. Greens, oranges, purples, pinks, the place has every color I could possibly think of. And the people are the same way. The huge, out-of-proportion surgeries and altercations, and even their clothes are garishly colorful. They cheer and wave, and Enobaria's words come back to me. "Don't go for charming." So, I give Spike a nudge, and the two of us stop waving back, giving them looks that say, "You wish you could be us." The crowd goes wild.

Soon after that, we pull up to a huge building called the training center. Since we're District Two, we get floor two. Okay, I get that. We are herded off into the hands of our respective prep teams, with a warning from Brutus not to give our prep team a hard time, and not to complain.

My prep team is composed of three ladies. The first one, Trixie, has bubblegum pink hair and eyes, and dyed purple skin. She is tall and lanky, and looks like an oversized chameleon. Pixie, the second lady, has blond hair and brown eyes that look natural. But every single part of her skin is covered in gold tattoos in a pattern of arrows. Just looking at her pudgy figure makes me dizzy. Third is Mixie. Her corkscrew curls are striped in every color of the rainbow. One of her eyes is black, the other is blue. She has a thin figure, and is very petite. Her skin is dark, except for a huge rainbow tattoo on her right forearm. I have a hard time perceiving them as human, especially since all they talk about are feathers and fashion. But they do a really great job, so I can't really hate them. They wax my body, and smooth me down with about fifty different creams. The process is very vain, as are the three of them. When they are finished, I look at myself in the mirror, and I'm amazed. My jet black hair falls gently around my shoulders, not in its usual severe ponytail. My pale skin shines, and my cheeks are rosy. Huh. I'm not used to this look, but it isn't half bad. Finally, Trixie, Pixie, and Mixie leave, and my stylist comes in. She is not at all what I expected. Her name, I discover, is Whippany. She is tall and willowy, with bronze skin and brown hair that cascades down her back in ringlets. At first, I don't see how her fashion looks anything like that of the capitol, but then I see a patch of pale skin on her left palm. She dyed her skin bronze. It's not atrocious, but unnecessary. I look at her eyes and I see silver flecks in them. Not too bad.

"Well Spera," Whippany begins, "let's talk about your costume for the tribute parade. District Two. Masonry. Let's see what we can do." She tells me to strip, pulling out an assortment of colored spray paints. I give her a distrustful look, but I do as she says. Alternating between cans, Whippany covers my body in paint. Then she pulls an oddly shaped dress out of a bag. I step into it, and I recognize what I see. I look like of the pickaxes we use to mine stone. I'm underwhelmed. I thought this lady was supposed to help me make a first impression! I mean, pickaxes are useful in the arena, but for the parade…? But a maniacal glint in her eye tells me she has some tricks up her sleeve. "Don't complain," she says, "You will see."

I meet up with the other tributes in the huge stable underneath the training center. We all mount our chariots. As One rolls out, wearing white togas with sapphires in them, their bodies sprayed with liquid gold, I see what is special about our costumes. They aren't identical, but they definitely go together. Spike is a hunk of stone, and when we sit next to each other, my axe goes right into his costume. I can see in the big screen that it looks like I am chopping him to pieces. Spike doesn't look too thrilled, but I love it. I acknowledge the crowd, but I make sure it is obvious that I am not 'cute' or 'flirty'. My angle is aloof, hard, and tough. I see my face, and my face is serene, just like I want. Nobody can read my expression. Perfect. Then, a rose hits my arm, and I catch it. Looking up, I see the little girl who evidently threw it, waving her arms energetically. I wave back, and she starts jumping up and down. More roses start to fall, and Spike flexes his muscles, as I give the crowd a cunning smirk.

Once we all parade around, and Snow gives a speech, we head back inside and I catch the little boy from Twelve staring at me. It makes me uncomfortable, that his blood may be on my sword in a week's time, so I just bare my teeth at him. Both of the Twelves run quickly into the elevator.

Every year there are some obvious favorites among the chariots. By the time the parade ends, votes are in, and we are ranked number two, just behind the incredible District One costumes. District Eleven was a close number three. They were warrior garden gnomes. How is that appealing…?

We are lead up to our suite by Enobaria. It is huge and roomy, with beautiful tapestries all over the place. After a dinner as delicious as the last, I sink down into my bed, with sheets even softer than the ones on the train, and let the beating of my heart lull me to sleep.

I hope you liked this chapter, it took a while. And it would not take you that long to just please review really quickly, it would mean a lot to me, and it would make the chapters come faster.


	4. Chapter 4

Here's chapter four!

Ch. 4- Training

The next morning, I wake to find an outfit laid out for me. I pin a big cloth 2 on my back, and head down for breakfast. After a light breakfast of the best eggs I've ever had, I head down with Spike to the training room.

We are the first ones there. As tributes trickle in, I size each of them up. I'm shorter than about a third of my competition, but probably faster than at least half. The huge boys from Six, Four, and even Spike are my concern; they could pin me easily. Although the girl from Eleven has a height advantage as well. The trainer, Atala, gives us the go, and we head off to train. I stick to knives, which aren't my strong suit, but I can handle them. Jewel, the girl from One, comes over to join me. The scrawny pair from Nine is standing at the station, watching the two of us with mouths agape. While I always hit the target, Jewel never misses the center. Ever. I whip around and hiss at the pair from Nine. Jewel laughs, and the two kids run away.

"I dare you to stand in front of it." Jewel's tinkling voice breaks the silence. "In front of the target. While I throw knives at you."

I mull in over in my mind. Alright, if Jewel is as good as she seems, she won't hit me, if she isn't, well then I'll kill her later. I accept the challenge. By now, a sizable crowd has gathered to watch. I walk slowly up to the target, and pivot, arms outstretched. Jewel narrows her eyes, and spins a long, curved blade in her palm. She breathes, then releases the projectile. I watch as it comes spinning towards me, and for a second I'm convinced that she's going to hit me, square in the stomach. My throat begins to form a yell, until at the last minute, the knife curves just enough to hit the empty space in between my legs. The yell dies in my throat. My breath comes out in a _whoosh_. I hear clapping coming from my allies in One, Two and Four. The others scamper away, but the four of them crowd around us, congratulating Jewel on her skill, me on my courage.

Before we know it, it's time for lunch. Grabbing the biggest table, my allies and I all sit down. Jewel and Azure from One, Horace and Levin from Four, and obviously Spike and me from Two. We talk about home, as Azure describes the clean, cobblestone walkways of One, with the gleaming fountains and big, puffy clouds. The weather, he says, is always perfect. Horace laughs, and tells us how the weather is unpredictable in Four, it is either soaking or very dry, with yearly monsoons. However, Levin adds, shining, warm waves and soft, white beaches make up for it.

Then I begin to tell them about the quarries in Two, how all of them are white, pearly and breathtaking. Spike goes on about the deserted quarries, which the kids often turn into swimming holes during the summer rains. We all look at each other, and sigh, before we start laughing uncontrollably. We swap stories.

"I love to surf," Levin describes, "It's all strategy, which waves you can ride, which it is better not to try. I've known Horace all his life, and well… he can't swim worth a darn."

Horace turns red, and we all laugh at his expense. "Hey!" He cries indignantly, "I can swim!"

"You almost drowned falling off a pier two months ago." Levin reminds him dryly. Horace begins to bluster again, but his defenses can't be heard over our laughter. All too soon, it's time to go train again.

Over a period of two days, I work every station in the room. Levin joins me, but we don't have too much to say, so Jewel and I stick together. Throughout two days, I learn that Jewel has little triplet brothers at home, and a twin sister who she loves dearly. If she hadn't gone into the games, she would have worked in her family's business; setting jems into silver and golden bangles for the capitol. She says she never had a knack for it, but her sister is brilliant at it. She loves to sing, and read poetry.

Azure is a lot quieter. He does tell us that he plays the harmonica, and his dad whittled him one for his tenth birthday. He brought it as a token, and on the second day of training, he brings it out and plays it for us. His father is best friends with Jewel's dad, so the two kids grew up together. In a darker moment, Jewel makes me promise to kill Azure if we are the only three left. She said she could never do it and face her parents and Azure's dad. I promised her; it seemed like the only decent thing to do.

I've seen Spike all my life, but never before did I know how good he was at card tricks, or how his little sister is the bane of his existence, but he loves her anyway.

Besides surfing, Levin tells us that she has perfect grades in school, and wanted to be mayor if she didn't end up going into the games. Horace barely says anything, but he spills that ever since he was orphaned in a house fire, just the thought of flames terrifies him.

I lie awake on the night before our private sessions, thinking. I think about Jewel's big family, and Azures father, Spike's little sister and Levin's big ambitions, and how Horace's past fears have made him human. As I do so, I realize that over these three days, we have become almost friends. Do I want to kill them? Can I? Will I? The questions swirl around in my mind, causing me to lye awake.

On the third day, we still train in the morning, but the atmosphere is tense. Lunch is a quiet affair. Then, at one on the dot, a bell rings. Azure leaves, and we bode him good luck. Same with Jewel, and Spike. Then it's my turn.

The gamamakers aren't bored yet, that's the good thing about being District Two, and so I know the odds are in my favor. For a minute, I hesitiate, but then I walk over to the weapon that has never failed me. I spin a light sword around, testing the balance. Perfect. After giving it a few quick swings, I turn to the dummies, and maul them for a few minutes. I don't want the gamemakers to be bored, but I don't know what else to do. Then, something hits me.

"I would like a trainer to throw knives at me, please." The gamemakers look up, shocked by the odd request, but oblige. A quirky looking man comes out with a sheath of knives. He throws one at me, and I take my sword, wait….wait…. now! I deflect the knife with my blade, sending it spinning back towards him. After repeating this motion a few more times, I thank the gamemakers and turn, walking out. I throw the sword behind me, and it lands in the heart of a dummy. I hope they think I meant to do that.

"How do you think you did?" Brutus asks Spike and me, as we enter our suite.

"I did amazing." Spike brags, "I threw weights."

Brutus smirks and a _we'll see_ kind of look flashes across his face.

"I'm not sure. I did some sword work, but everything is in proportion." I say. I actually think I did amazing, but I'm not going to say that.

"Good, you two," Enobaria says, "the gamemakers like shows of strength and power."

The whole team gathers around the screen. Both from One get 9. Spike gets a 7. Kind of sad for a career. My heart rises to my throat as they flash my picture along with a number 10! Everyone is slapping me on the back and giving me congratulations except for Spike. But no time for him now. Horace gets a nine, while Levan, gets an eight. Five gets 6s. The boy from Six, whose name is Sylvester, gets an eight. He beat Spike. Huh. I don't see too much that is special, although the girl from Nine, Sylvia, manages a 9. I don't like the looks of that. The girl in Eleven, named Petunia, gets a 10. I'll have to take her out in the bloodbath. She may be our cannon fodder problem Both from Twelve get 4s. And that's it.

Later, I grab a sheet of paper and copy down everything about each tribute that I can remember. And it looks like this:

Boy 1- Azure, score 9 Girl 1- Jewel, score 9

Boy 3- Trink, score 4 Girl 3- Wisp, score 3

Boy 4- Horace, score 9 Girl 4- Levan, score 8

Boy 5- Garland, score 6 Girl 5- Vinnia, score 6

Boy 6- Sylvester, score 8 Girl 6- Kaitlyn, score 4

Boy 7- Wesby, score 3 Girl 7- Hanah, score 6

Boy 8- Charland, score 5 Girl 8- Bolt, score 3

Boy 9- Zoria, score 4 Girl 9- Sylvia, score 9

Boy 10- Raymond, score 3 Girl 10- Honey, score 4

Boy 11- Regan, score 2 Girl 11- Petunia, score 9

Boy 12- Coal, score 4 Girl 12- Tubre, score 4

That's it. I don't bother writing down District Two. Not that it's a surprise or anything, but I score better than everyone else.

This one took me a while, it is still up! Next chapter is interviews, and the arena is coming up! I know people are reading this, and please review, otherwise I don't know if anyone actually wants me to continue this rewrite. So please, review, and constructive criticism is so welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter five!

Ch. 5- Interviews

The next day is all about interviews. Tomorrow I will be lifted into an arena.

Enobaria coaches me first. "Okay," she begins, "so, what's your angle?"

"Hard," I tell her, "disciplined, but also a little 'hard to get'. Pleasant with the capitol and somewhat with my alliance, but not with the other tributes."

Enobaria nods her approval. We spend the next two hours going through every single question known to mankind. I have to answer them all perfectly. And I do. After lunch, I meet with Silk, who drills me on conduct for another two hours. Apparently I don't know how to walk right. Or breathe right. Or talk, smile, or pretty much behave like a civilized human the correct way. Then, I am placed into my prep teams' hands. They make me up exquisitely, but the real fun comes when Whippany enters with my outfit.

"I hope you like it," Whippany says, and motions me to step into some kind of dress.

I do, and then glance at myself in the mirror. My dress is a silver-grey color, tight at the top with a thin waist and skirt that looks like a frilly umbrella. The bottom layer of the skirt is a white mesh, then a light silver silk, a dark grey tarp, and this silver-grey velvet on top. The top of it is made of velvet as well, and very tight. It drives me crazy, because I can barely lift my arms in it, no less throw a punch. But I have to admit, it looks ravishing. My dark hair cascades down my back in loose curls. It frames my face. I have very pale silver eye shadow on, and a lot of blush. My lips are a dark red, and my eyes lined in jet black. My reflection, for the first time of my life, takes my breath away.

Spike wears a very striking suit. It's black and blue, with a high, stiff collar and tails. I catch him staring at my dress, though he quickly averts his eyes as I glare at him. The two of us head down to the room behind the stage where the interviews will take place. Along with the other twenty two tributes, we line up in order of our districts, girl-boy order. As the girl from district two, I go third. For the meantime, I sit sandwiched in between Azure and Spike. The curtain opens to a thunderous applause. Long time host of the games, Caesar Flickerman, greets the audience. Every year Caesar dresses in a different color. This year, his color is bright yellow, making my eyes hurt. The girl from District One is always first, so Jewel flounces onto the stage. Her gown is a rosy pink floral design that is very low cut. I swear, by the time her three minutes are up, every teenage boy in the capitol wants to kiss her.

Azure plays to a very smart angle, rather unusual for a career tribute. When his timer buzzes and he exits to a huge applause, I stand and walk toward the front of the stage.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, Spera Okenwitz of District Two!" says Caesar, and when the crowd quiets down, he says, "Well Spera, the crowd is very intrigued about you. Fifteen is rather young to volunteer isn't it?"

"Well," I say, "I don't know what others believe, but I know that I am ready, no matter what my age may be." I fix him with an icy gaze, then turn and wink at the audience, which makes them go wild.

"Alright Spera. I'll give you that. But then you got the highest training score! How did that happen?"

"All I can say is that I may be on the young side for serious contenders, but don't you dare count me out. Apparently the gamemakers recognized that, so they gave me the score I deserve."

Caesar nods. It's obvious he is dying to get more personal information. "Who are you fighting for at home?"

That's not an uncommon question, one I can answer. "I'm fighting for my parents, and my siblings. They need me to come home, because they need a new roof, and my little sister Marlene's shoes are too small again. I'm fighting for my best friend, Natalia, who I've known since I was tiny. I'm fighting for Nat's little sister Clove, who one day will probably follow me up onto this stage. Watch out for her." Good. This gives Clove an advantage if she ends up in the games. "And I'll win for all the others in my district, for all the kids orphaned in the rockslides in the quarries, and for all my friends from school, but mostly, I'm fighting for myself. I'm fighting because it's what I was born to do. I was born to be a victor, and you will see me on this stage again, I promise."

The crowd roars, they like seeing a little bit of humanity from the career districts, and I'm happy to provide that for them. And it's true. Like I said earlier, I've had to depend on scholarships, and three kids aren't cheap. Still, we're richer than all of Twelve, but things don't come cheap so close to the capitol. "Ladies and Gentlemen… Spera Okenwitz!" Ceaser roars, and I lift my arms up in a victory gesture, and the crowd screams and cheers.

The rest of the interviews fly by, with only a few sticking out in my mind. Spike plays it very cocky, but gets red-faced and flustered when Caesar brings up his 7 in training. Wisp, the girl from three, is serene and almost divine, whereas Horace, is very brutal and blustery. Sylvia, the girl from Nine, is determined and definitely plays up the nine she received from training. Regan, the boy from Eleven who scored a two, the lowest anyone has scored in five years, acts weak, but not scared, which convinces me that he is more of a threat than he seems. Coal, the boy from Twelve, wraps things up by accusing the capitol of ruining his life. He's not going to last long. Ending with the anthem and a last round of applause, we all return to our rooms for one last night before the games begin.

As I shower before bed (I've never seen such a complicated shower in my life), I do something I hadn't done since before the Reaping. I think of my family. My parents will be proud, and Zen will be impressed, but I wonder about Marlene. I know I will have to kill in the arena, but I don't want her to see her sister turn into a monster. She isn't like the other kids in Two. She doesn't revel in violence cruelty. That's another reason I have to win. All Two kids have to train in the academy, but rich people can pay to have their kids exempted. I don't want Marlene's innocence to be ruined. After all, if she sees me kill, it might be ruined anyway.

Then my mind switches tactics, and starts to imagine all the possible arenas. What if the cornucopia gets destroyed? That happened last year; giant lizard mutts ate the supplies, and the careers all died without it. What if the alliance splits too early? Would I survive? I keep remembering that at least five others in the arena are perfectly willing and capable to kill me.

But then my Games training kicks in, and a voice in my head tells me to go to sleep so I am well rested. I bet I am the only tribute who sleeps at all that night.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Thanks a lot to **Demiwizardtributeinitiate** for the review! Remember guys, the more reviews, the faster the chapters come out. Let's try for two reviews before the next chapter, kay?


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry, this is really short!

Ch. 6- Prep

I rise as late as possible, and, after a few minutes of stretching, still in my nightclothes, go down for breakfast. There I don't find any food, and I am instead escorted to a chamber that leads to a hovercraft that I mount. By this time, I can't tell if I'm shaking from nerves, or excitement. Whippany is there, and she hands me a plate of pancakes and eggs and a glass of water. I down it all, then am given my tribute outfit. I examine it, and it seems to be:

A black shirt made of sheer, waterproof material, with a loose v neck,

a small, red, slicker to go on top,

and a pair of black running pants that go halfway down my shins.

Close toed white slip-on shoes with, upon further inspection, running treads.

Lastly, white cotton socks that go halfway up my calves, ending where my pants end.

Whippany examines everything, and says, "I would say this outfit is both a blessing and a curse. The top is great for wet weather, though the sock will soon get heavy with water. The socks are great for cold, but the pants may make you freeze. The pants are wonderful for running and warm weather, though. And if you have to swim, the shoes will fall off, but they are pretty good for running."

We sit in silence for a while. I gnaw on my nails, trying to distract myself from what's to come. After all, there is nothing I can do now but wait. And then fight. And starting in a few minutes, I won't be able to stop fighting. A lady comes in to inject my tracker, but I've had so many vaccinations, I barely feel the needle go in. I make sure to drink all my water, though not too fast, and then the command comes in for me to board the launch pad. As the glass is closing around me, Whippany suddenly says, "Good luck, Spera." Then, she is gone.

I am in darkness for about ten seconds, then I rise out into the open and I feel the air on my face. The sun isn't too bright, which confuses me. Then I have to tell myself to snap out of it. I have been waiting for this for fifteen years. It's time.

So, this is not the best chapter, I almost combined it with the next one, but I felt it was necessary to have. Next chapter: games!

Remember, please take a little time to review, and I'm always open to constructive criticism and ideas!


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry for the short last chapter, here's a longer one to make up for it, okay? Almost 100 views! Wow!

Here are the games! This is why the rating is T, there will be deaths. But nothing too gruesome.

Happy read!

Ch. 7- Bloodbath and Hunts

Sixty seconds. Fifty nine. Fifty eight.

The gamemakers have outdone themselves this year. The tributes are on a plain of hard packed dirt. Good for running. Beyond that, is a stream, rushing very fast, rings the whole area. Beyond that is a thick row of pine trees, not good for escaping, and good for protecting the cornucopia. I can see the tops of huge trees with sweeping branches, perfect for climbing, beyond. Even further, I hear rushing waterfalls.

Thirty seven. Thirty six. Thirty five.

All the tributes are placed in an equidistant ring about forty meters from the golden corn. We are all face to face with our district partners on our pedestals.

Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen.

I see one gleaming sword in the center of the bounty. Mine. If I wasn't a career, I wouldn't think of getting it, but I am, so I will.

Ten.

Oh gosh, This is it.

Nine. Eight.

I could die.

Seven. Six. Five.

No. I can do this. I will do this.

Four.

Mom, Dad, don't let Marlene watch…please…

Three.

Soon…

Two.

Get ready, I've been waiting for this all my life.

One…

Boom!

That's the gong. I take off, speeding past fast little Wisp from Three. I dash to the sword, wrapping my palm around the handle, as a knife whizzes past my cheek. Pulling my sword up, I use the same deflecting move I used in my private session. I turn to see Tubre, the girl from Twelve, running at me. What a fool. She may have learned well in training, but she's no match for someone who's been training all their life. I run at her and slam into her full force. The impact knocks her to the ground. I go in for the death blow, but a short spear beats me to it. Horace is on the other end of the spear. I turn on him, but he shouts, "Just helping out an ally! You take this side, I'll take the other."

"Deal!" I yell back, but he's already gone. I turn around to see Raymond from Ten rushing me, aiming for a pack behind me. I stick my sword out right in front of him, blade side to him. He can't stop himself in time, so he runs right into the blade and collapses. I grab the best looking bag I can find. I'll inspect it later. Vinnia, the girl from Five, is trying to escape from the horn unnoticed, where she had been hiding. I slam her upside the jaw, then slash her across the chest and face. She crumples to the ground. It's been five minutes, and my kill list is already up to two. I prey Marlene isn't watching.

As the last tributes either fall or disappear through the pines, I walk over to Horace, who has joined up with Azure, Jewel, and Spike, but not Levin, oddly enough. We nod to each other, and turn our separate ways to inspect the supplies. There are no tributes left in sight now, but tonight we will go hunting. Just then, the cannons begin to sound. One, two, three… I count ten in all. Thirteen left to kill. Jewel comes over to me and we sift through a large pack together. She is bleeding from a large cut on her arm, but otherwise she'll be fine. Supplies are divided up, and after about three hours, the sky is still the same color as it was when the games started. That's the gamemakers playing games with us. Could be worse.

First to appear is Wisp, the girl from Three. Then Vinnia and Garland from Five. So, all six careers made it. The next faces are Sylvester from six and Wesby from Seven. Charland and Bolt from Eight, and Zoria from Nine. Raymond and Tubre close everything up. The anthem plays again, and the sky goes blank. Except for the never ending sunset.

I think of all the fallen tributes. Just one hour ago, they all had hopes of winning the games, their friends and families back home believed in them. But I don't have time to think like that. If my fellow careers see any signs of weakness on my face, they will kill me in an instant.

We pack up our weapons for hunting. "Where's Levin?" I ask Horace.

His face goes cold, and he says, "Levin deserted us."

I can't believe it! Smart, crafty Levin, who loved to surf. How could she? Horace is obviously upset!

"Hey, let's go hunt some tributes!" Azure hoots, and the rest of us cheer. We walk across the hard plain, and then we approach the stream. It's fast, but Horace glides through it, no problem. I guess a horrible swimmer from District Four is still a great swimmer to anyone else. The rest of us swallow, and slowly paddle across, struggling against the currents. Then we collapse on the other bank. Horace lets us take a breather, then urges us to keep going. My socks get heavy, and I remember Whippany's words. "Let's take off our socks." I say. There is a murmur of agreement, and off go the socks. We continue and when we get to the pine trees, everyone turns to me. I realize that Horace didn't bring his spear. Along with Jewel, he only has a knife. Azure has bolas, and Spike has a crossbow, so my weapon, my sword, is the only one suitable for cutting through the thick growth. I spot a place that has already been broken into, and begin slashing through the brush. We emerge on the other side almost unscathed except for some minor scratches. The temperature has begun to drop, so the socks go back on. Then, Jewel says,

"Wait." She cocks her head, listening for something. Then I hear it. The sizzling of a fire pit. Silently, the two of us begin to glide forward, and the rest follow our lead. Jewel holds up a hand, and we all stop abruptly. Twenty feet in front of us, concealed by bushes, little Trink of District Three is warming his hands by a campfire. Daft kid. Spike hands Azure the crossbow, and Azure aims for the boy's head. A cannon tells us the arrow has found its mark. The five of us turn away and continue heading into the trees.

The next time, it's Horace who finds the tribute. One hour after we find Trink, Horace silently gestures to a tree above us. Sleeping in it is Kaitlyn, from Six. She isn't very high, but then again, she is a large girl, so I don't know if the branches above could hold her. Horace scales the branches and silently slits her throat. Another cannon fires.

I could keep going all night long, but Spike, Jewel, and Azure all want to rest. So we call it a night, and we head back to the cornucopia.

I am put on the first guard with Horace we don't talk at all, and I'm relieved when our two hour shift is over. I shift in and out of a dreamless sleep for four hours. Then, I'm put on guard with Azure. It's boring work, so I make some conversation.

"Azure?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you thinking about?"

He swallows. His voice lowers, and his head swivels around. "I… I'm thinking about how us, you, me, Jewel, Horace, Spike and even Leven, we acted like friends. Anywhere else, I think we would have been friends, actually, but not in the arena. Here, I know I'll probably die by one of your hands. Or have to kill you. And I also have to protect Jewel. Jewel, she's sweet, but in District One, being nice isn't enough. You have to be talented, and the only thing Jewel could do is the games. It's been her destiny to win, I've known that since we were, like, five years old together and she stabbed me in the foot. Me? I'm just the next dumb brute."

When I don't say anything, he gets defensive, "Hey, you asked!"

"I know…" I say, "Azure, you aren't "just" anything. All of us, five, maybe six of us will go down as Death Number…, but there are people who care for you, back at home. And Azure?"

"Yeah?"

"If it comes to it… I'd make it quick."

We spend the rest of our watch in silence. Then I get four more hours of rest. We all rouse then, and I realize that even though the sky is stuck in sunset mode, it does seem to be getting lighter and darker as the hours move. We head out to hunt tributes, but we don't get anything all day. Horace is getting annoyed, and the audience must be restless. That's when the gamemakers usually come in. And that is the one thing we can't train for.

Aaaaaand the games have begun! Now, please, review! It means a ton to me, and it help the story improve. Next chapter up soon!


	8. Chapter 8

This one is a long one! Please read on!

Disclaimer- I don't own THG

*Shout out to any GG2 girls who are reading this: don't do a Rachel- review to my story*

Sorry, if you didn't understand that, just keep scrolling. If you did, well then.

Ch. 8- Plot twist

I'm on watch when I hear the water rushing even before I see it. There haven't been deaths in over twenty four hours, and the audience is longing for blood thirst. I scream for everyone to grab as much supplies as they can. I end up holding two packs, a row of knives, and my swords. Then we all run to the horn and scramble to climb on. Just as the last of us (Azure) is securely on the horn, the water from what I assume were the waterfalls I heard earlier rushes onto the plain. The stream overflows, and we all get sprayed with a foamy blast. I think of my red rain jacket and I hike it up over my face. The others follow my lead. I hear a cannon mixed in with the constant spray of water. _One_ _more down, _I think to myself.

The water finally settles down. It seeps into the ground at a rate much faster than normal, and I'm soaked. Then again, we all are. We sit on the grass around the cornucopia, scraping grass and dirt out of our mouths and wringing water out of our clothes. By this point, everything is so dirty and waterlogged that it barely serves a purpose anyway, but hey, weak covering is better than no covering at all.

Spike quiets us, and the anthem plays. Then faces appear. Trink and Kaitlyn appear, but Coal does as well. So, that puts Twelve out of the running as well. And I suppose, after what he said in his interview, I'm not surprised that the gamemakers killed him off. We sit down in silence, catching our breath and dozing off.

"So, should we be dividing up our rations?" Horace asks, a few hours later.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Spike says, so we do. And we each end up with a nice amount of stuff, enough to last us each four days on our own. I end up with my sword, two packs of dried fruit, two packs of dried meat, and a warm blanket, a rope. In the midst of our dividing, a silver parachute floats down. Our first gift from sponsors! Jewel eagerly tears into it, and we find one of District Four's telltale green loaves of bread, and five apples. We eat the apples, and give the bread to Horace to preserve. It is his district, after all.

The sorting has taken the good part of the day, and the capitol should be satisfied with the action of this morning. "Let's get some sleep," Azure suggests, "we can go tribute hunting tomorrow."

That sounds like a good idea, and we are all so tired from the tsunami wave, we murmur in agreement and settle down to rest, putting Horace and Azure on watch. I'm drifting off into a daze when I hear a piercing scream.

The first thing I do is pull out a knife, and I can see Jewel and Spike do that as well. Horace and Azure are nowhere in sight. No. Did Levan or Petunia from Eleven get to them? Wait, there is a body on the ground. Azure is lying face down on the ground, a knife stuck in his back. My head whips around fast enough to see Horace's thick frame disappearing through the pines. Jewel throws a knife as hard as the can before sinking to her knees with a cry. Jewel, who usually throws so perfectly, is so distraught that the knife sinks into Horace's thigh. I look back to see that Horace has all of our remaining supplies, save our weapons. A cannon sounds, and I know Azure is beyond saving. But Jewel is so distraught that she can't see that.

"Azure!" She screams shrilly, pumping her hands over his chest, "No! Don't leave me! You promised me we'd do this together! Please!" Then she dissolves into tears, huge, earth-shaking sobs that sound like they are being ripped from her lungs. Spike gives me a look, and I hesitantly go over to Jewel, touching her shoulder lightly.

"Jewel?"

She rips around savagely. "_Don't touch me_-oh, it's you. Sorry." She steadies herself with a deep breath. "Sorry. I need to calm down." She seems to have noticed that she needs to calm down, or else we will lose sponsors. And with Horace controlling all of our things, we need all the sponsors we can get. "Let's… let's go hunt tributes." Jewel says, "I need a distraction." If she wasn't talking about killing children, it would have sounded natural. But Spike and I nod, and follow her through the pines.

We do find a tribute, after only an hour. Hanah from District Seven is high up in an oak tree, out of Jewel and Spike's reach. I on the other hand, am light enough to go up there. Then I see it. Small lumps that, to the untrained eye, look like tree bark. But years of training tell me it's Terannas.

"Guys," I say, quietly, "back away from the tree. Now." And they obey because of the steely, hollow quality of my voice. Once we are out of earshot, but not out of sight, Jewel asks,

"Why?"

"Because," I explain, my voice low, "did you guys see those lumps on the tree?" they both nod, saying that yes, they did. "Well," I continue, "those weren't pieces of bark. They were the homes of mutts called Terannas. A deadly mix of termites and piranhas, Terannas are bugs four inches wide that can breathe on both land and in water. They can bite through bone easier than a banana. And if they hear you, they assume you are their enemy. So they eat you. I don't know how Hanah got into the tree without the bugs noticing, but Terannas are blind and numb, they are directed by sound, so I guess it is possible."

Spike says, "Let's go back."

"But be very, very quiet," Jewel adds in a whisper.

We creep back to the tree, and I'm feeling very hopeful until Spike snaps a branch, heavy on his feet.

The insects converge onto us, having targeted us as their enemies. With no extra material for coverage, such as packs, I know that all I can do is run. So I do. I grab Spike's hand, and pull him with me. I can see him holding on to Jewel as the three of us race away through the trees.

I know the gamemakers won't want to kill us all off, we are their main source of entertainment, so after we run a while, I pant out, "Okay, we lost them."

We hear a voice in the distance. "Hanah," it says, "Hanah, I brought some fo-ahh!" the tribute has been targeted by the insects. We can see her form, it is most definitely a girl, collapse, her skin strip away from her. Hanah, oddly enough, stays silent. Then, she scales down the tree, making no noise, as a cannon sounds for her lost partner. Then it clicks. Hanah, District Seven, lumber. She probably knows Terannas like the back of her palm. The image of the other girl, most likely in alliance with Hanah, being stripped of skin makes me want to curl up into a ball and cry, but I can't. Because it is at that moment that Jewel says,

"Guys? My… my…"

Spike and I whirl around to see Jewel on the ground, rocking like a small child, cradling a stump where her left hand ought to be. Its gushing blood, and I know that we have no medical supplies, so this is the moment when we really begin to need our sponsors.

And sure enough, a pot of cream lands in a parachute at Jewel's feet. Since she obviously can't open in, I do, with shaking hands. I hold the pot while Spike helps dip Jewel's hand into the lotion. She gasps, and all the tension leaves her face. The bones in her hand are knitting themselves back together, the skin sealing itself over the new frame. But Jewel is weak from blood loss, and Horace is probably in control of the cornucopia. So, we find a nice, Teranna-free spot, and take I watch with Spike while Jewel rests. My district partner turns to me, his face solemn. Before he can speak, the anthem sounds. The only faces in the sky are Azure and Honey, who I guess was Hanah's ally. I suppose the forest is working out pretty well for Hanah. I can't say the same for myself. I'm glad Jewel is asleep. She's already in enough pain without seeing her district partner's face projected across the sky.

Surprise! Yes, I have been planning this for a loooooong time. It hurt me to kill of Azure, but it was necessary… sorry. I've got a lot of views, so I know people are reading this, but please review! It doesn't take you too much time, but it means so much to me.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you **Shwartzy** for reviewing! #Cit's of '18!

The end is drawing near! Here it goes….

Ch. 9- Arena days 4 through 7

I wake with a start. I don't remember drifting off! I see Jewel's smiling face, as she explains, "I saw you were asleep, so I let Spike sleep too. A cannon went off, but I don't know whose."

I hadn't realized how tired I was. "Thank you."

Spike, it seems, has already risen, and is stretching against a tree.

Then, Spike's voice cuts through my early morning dreariness. "Guys, somebody is here."

We whirl around, Spike with a machete, Jewel with a knife, me with a sword, and soon we find ourselves back to back with each other, ready for a fight. Then, Horace, Levin, and Petunia burst through the bushes and pounce on us. I had forgot all about Levin and Petunia. I feel so stupid. But no time for that now.

Levin charges me, and without breaking a sweat, I catch the hook punch she was throwing at my face. I hold her tight with my right hand as my left arm comes up and breaks her elbow. She screams, and pulls out a knife I hadn't seen on her belt. She slashes it at my face, but I duck. It cuts off about half of my hair, niches my ear, and the handle bruises my cheek badly. I throw a thrusting kick at Levin's ribs, which sends her sprawling. She pops up and comes in again, a long, curved blade in her hand. She stabs it at my stomach, and I jump up, making it dig into my thigh instead. I scream, and while she is bent over, I grab her head and put her into a headlock. Then I stab my sword into her throat, and she falls back. Then I have an idea.

I take one of Levin's knives, and throw it at Petunia's head. That causes her to duck right onto Jewel's blade. A cannon fires. Now Spike and Jewel are fighting Horace. I run over to join them, and Spike, who is barely holding Horace off as it is, looks over at me. That is his big mistake. Horace takes advantage of his momentary distraction and runs his spear through Spike's chest. Everyone stops. A cannon fires. Horace turns on his heel and runs. I sprint over to Spike, who in gasping for breath, the spear still skewered in his chest.

"Spera…"

I feel a burning in my throat and swallow hard. "Spike…"

"Spera, you have to win. My… my family needed me to win for money… but if you win they… they can get the monthly food… and bring honor… to Two… help my brother and my sister…"

He exhales, and I whisper, "I… I will."

In the last seconds of his life, Spike lets his guard down. "I'm scared."

I don't know what to do, so I lie. "Don't be scared, nothing can happen to you now, okay?"

A tiny smile flashes across his face. "Okay…"

A cannon booms. I kneel down, and fall over onto my face.

"No! Not you also, Spera!" Jewel exclaims, "You can't die as well!"

I manage a grin. "I'm not going to die. Just, I got hit with a knife and it's bleeding pretty hard. Do you have the cream with you?"

Jewel falters. "No, Horace stole it."

I grab what were Spike's socks, and wrap them around the wound. The bleeding is slowing, but I'm pretty weak. I can't sit up, none the less walk. So as I rest, Jewel spends the day trying to find food. She tries, to her credit, but all we have by nightfall is a handful of edible fungi that Jewel swears isn't poison. Even so, I make her eat the first bite. It seems okay, so I have some. The taste is bad and the texture is worse, but food is food, so I swallow it down. The anthem plays. Spike, Levin, Sylvia, and Petunia's faces show. I wonder what, or who, got to Sylvia. I remember her volunteering for that little girl, and Petunia sparing that random stranger, and I get a funny feeling in my stomach.

It's been four days since we landed in the arena. It seems like eternity.

"Who else is left?" I ask.

Jewel's face contorts as she tries to remember. "Um," she says, "You, me, Horace, Hanah, and Regan."

I nod. We can't keep this alliance much longer. But with Horace out there, we need each other. I know that. She knows that.

Jewel takes first watch, and I lie there in the silence, remembering. I remember Levin, how she good naturedly teased Horace, how she was so clever, and Horace, who helped Spike with spears during training. Spike. He wasn't much, but he was from home. I told him I would win, but that means that four more people have to die. That makes me feel sick.

Spike. I wasn't very close with him, but what happened to him shows how these people, these killers, they are only children.

With both of us mourning our district partners, nursing wounds, we kill two days doing nothing but finding and eating food. Or lack thereof. All of our sponsors seemed to have moved over to Horace, leaving us with two rolls a day, forcing us to fend for ourselves. Then, on the seventh day in the arena, we arise to a sizzling sound.

Fire. I know that sound. "Run!" I scream, but Jewel is already going.

"This way!" she screams, sprinting toward the cornucopia, which is where the fire is headed.

"No!" I yell, "Go to the right, not straight ahead!"

"You're wrong!" Jewel shouts back, and as I go right, away from the flames, yet not toward their target, I know that our alliance has just been broken. Mentally, I wish this girl with the big, loving family at home, the best of luck.

I realize something. I am not the fire's target. A memory tugs at my mind, and I struggle to remember. The second day of training, at lunch. Horace. He let slip his fear of fire. At the time I had pitied him, but after he killed Azure and Spike, I don't care. Anyway, The gamemakers probably heard him, the fool. So, if I can get around the flames, I will not be pursued. Part of my jacket falls off, and I watch it drag behind me, fall into the fire, and when I pull it out, it isn't marked! The jacket is fireproof! I pull it over my face, back, and chest, and run faster. I spot a waterfall in the distance. About ten feet from the water, the firewall seems to end. So, I head over there. Of course! They can't kill all of us, those deaths would so not be bloody enough. So they give us an escape route that also brings us closer together. I dart through the gap, and slump down against a rock. I'm exhausted, and the smoke got to my lungs. I keel over and retch and retch until there is nothing left in me. Then I hear a cannon. I've been in the arena a week, and nineteen tributes are dead. I can easily take out at least four of the remaining ones, depending on who just died. Then, a branch snaps and I whirl around. It's Regan. Before I can even think, my sword has been whipped out.

I can't just butcher him, District Two is honorable, I have to give him a chance. "Kid," I yell, "Take this knife." I toss him the one from Levin's sack. Surprised, he catches it, fumbling. Once his hand is wrapped around the handle, I come at him with big, swooping slashing strikes. He deflects the first three, pretty impressive, but I'm just playing with him. It's obvious he can't use a knife at all. I meant to give him a chance, but it's not like I'm about to lay down my life for him. I bring down my blade, and end him. Another cannon fires. I feel bad, but I know this is better than an end by fire, or what Horace would do to him.

Then I do hear a scream. One so full of fear, I know it can only belong to Horace. And then, I realize what they are doing. They will let us all kill each other, then, when only one of us is left, they will stop the flames and send us out to Horace, who will be so scared, he will be insane. That will make an amazing finale, now won't it?

It must be dusk, because although the fire keeps raging, the meadow and waterfall still fire-free, the anthem plays. There are two faces tonight, our seventh night here. Only Regan. The anthem plays again, and the projection disappears. Then I hear a moaning sound.

Yes, I killed off lots of people. Blame Snow, not me. Please review, can I get five reviews before the next chapter? (in which the victor may be revealed) It means a lot.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, unfortunately.


	10. Chapter 10

Here it is! The Finale! There will be probably five or six more chapters, covering post-game events, Spera's life, etc, but this is the end of the 70th Hunger Games!

*Disclaimer: Don't own HG*

Thanks to primroseeverdeen12 and Shwartzy on the reviews! They inspired this chapter to come out today.

Ch. 10- Finale

"Jewel?"

"Over… over here… Spera…"

I run over and see a charcoal-grey figure with lank, once- blonde-now-grey hair. Her eyes are still their startling blue, though. My former ally is lying in a fetal position on the grown. Her breaths are coming out slow, her voice raspy. I run over to her.

"Jewel, what happened?"

She shudders, and lets out a great, rattling breath. "The fire… you were right, Spera. I couldn't out run it, no matter how fast I was. All those first places in track meets… they don't matter to the gamemakers. Spera… I should have gone with you."

I try to assure her that it's okay, she did the right thing, but Jewel is no fool. She knows she's dying. I'm struggling with what to say, when she breaks the silence.

"I'll see Azure again, right? And I hope my family can get over me, I think they will…" She closes her eyes, and it is a minute before they open again. "Spera… this is wrong… I don't… you have to stop… you have to win… for me… and Azure… and Spike…." I don't understand most of what she says, she must be getting delirious, but I do understand one thing. I need to win, win for all my friends that I met and then were ripped from me.

I'm about to assure her that I will, when she says, "Spera… don't let them win… I'm ready…"

That I understand. Like the rest of us, she doesn't see any honor in dying from fire, only from another, stronger tribute. She wants me to kill her. When she hands me a jewel-encrusted blade, I know what she wants. This blade is like the things her parents make for a living. She wants me to use this knife. I don't know what else to do. I slit her throat. The cannon booms.

This is the hardest cannon for me. Even worse than Spike's. Jewel was more than an ally, she was my good friend. And there was no reason for her to die. None at all!

Then I have a reality check. Right now, I need to focus on getting out of the arena, then I can do whatever I want. There are three of us left. Me, Horace, and Hanah. Again. Hanah's death will be such a waste of a young heart. I just hope I'm not at the offending end of the sword.

I manage to get a few hours of sleep, but hunger is taking its toll, and I'm surprised when I can spend two days doing nothing but slowly starving. I guess Horace is giving the gamemakers enough entertainment. On the third day since fire struck, I'm about ready to go out and hunt down Hanah, just to get home.

An Earth-shattering roar rips through the arena. I run up the meadow, and I can see through the smoke Horace and Hanah, locked in combat. Well, not quite. Hanah is backed against a tree, desperately trying to dodge Horace's blows that he makes with both his spear, and his fists.

Time seems to slow down. I run towards them, but then freeze. I watch as one of Horace's powerful fists collides with Hanah's ribcage. She doubles over, gasping. Another blow to the head, and it's over. I watch the light leave her eyes, her sway in the spot for a moment, then fall sideways to the ground, like a tree that has been cut down. A cannon booms. The flames seem to evaporate, leaving a scorched arena. Scorched, but no longer deadly.

I think to ambush Horace, but it's too late. I hesitated too long. He sees me and charges me. If this was a contest of brute strength, Horace would win, but it's not. The first rule that we learn at the academy is "be smart". Actually, that is rule number two. Rule number one is "do what you're told or you'll get beaten up." But that's not the point. So as Horace closes the gap between us, I run towards the waterfalls. Then, at the last possible second, I sidestep him, and he slips on the wet rocks and falls to the ground. When I rush him, he springs up and puts me in a choke hold. I fervently try to get out, but his grip is to strong. Desperately, I claw at his arms, but I can feel my oxygen cutting off.

No. I didn't come this far too just… die. But the calm, quiet is rushing towards me, and it's so inviting. The voices of Jewel, Levin, Regan, Raymond, Vinnia, and all the others whose death I was a part of swirl around me, calling, reaching.

I close my eyes. I'm no longer Spera Okenwitz, the strong, proud girl from District Two who had a loving family, talent more than lots of eighteens. I'm a game-crazed lunatic.

Seven seconds. That's how long it takes for someone to die from being choked. The voices of the dead taunt me, dragging out seven seconds longer than possible. I lose control over my limbs, going limp, before I hear the voice of a small, dark girl cutting through my ears like a knife. "Win."

Win. Win. Win. Win. And then the haze clears around my mind, just in time.

I yank my arms up, loosening Horace's grip, and then rush forward, slamming the top of my skull into the weak part of his chin. He flips around and falls to the ground. I dive onto him, and the two of us are brawling by the water. It's just like a wrestling match, I tell myself, it just to happens to be life or death. My muscle memory kicks in. He tries to force his fist to my nose, but I grab it, and, with my knife, open a gash on his wrist. He is at my mercy now, and he is becoming steadily bloodier by the minute.

I take spear stabs to the calf, shoulder, and knee, but everything he gives, I give back to him, with interest. This bloody, deranged boy who had fears as human as any, who was teased by a friend about his faults, but took it good naturedly, is no longer the Horace he used to be. His blind insane rage is his final problem. He is losing his technique, and I can beat pure strength any day. He can't win now, not with the injuries he has sustained, and, like Jewel, he would rather die honorably than from bleeding out.

"End it," he whispers, so I do. I was trained for this, I have to do it. Then I'll win. So I end it. I pull out my sword and end it.

A cannon fires and I scream. The rational part of me tells me that it's okay, now I'm safe. But the rest of me is convinced that the voice saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, our Victor of the Seventieth Hunger Games, Spera Okenwitz!" is really a mutt. So I want to scream and claw at another tribute, but there are none left, so I scream and claw at myself. And a hovercraft comes down, and I'm running from it, running back to where it's safe, but then I remember that nowhere is safe so I just sit down and let the hovercraft pick me up.

There is a woman at the top. She smiles a sweet, sappy, capitol smile, and sticks a needle in my arm. The world goes black.

And we have our victor! Now, be inspired by the awesome people who have reviewed, and give Spera a review! She just won the Hunger Games; she deserves it! Also, if there is anything you would like to see in the following chapters, please tell!


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